Our Gemara on Amud Beis uses an interesting phrase to reject an opinion of Rav Ashi, “badusa,” which we can translate as “made up.” The connotation is stronger than mistaken, as the root is likely B-D-A (see Melachim I 12:33), but it also may mean “outside,” that is, a teaching that is outside of the accepted chain of transmission. Perhaps a student made a mistake and misquoted Rav Ashi (Shita Mekubetzes Bava Metzia 71b). Some therefore exchange the dalet for a reish, making the word barusa (see Chasam Sofer Bava Metzia 71b, and Pesach Einayim Pesachim 11a). This phrase is used several times in regard to an opinion of Rav Ashi throughout Shas (see, for example, Yevamos 82a, Pesachim 11a), but not exclusively (see Shabbos 27a regarding Rav Papa).

A fascinating explanation comes from Chikrei Lev (II p. 61). The word badusa comes from Pumbedisa, which was a famous Talmudic academy that was on the bank of the river Bedisa; thus it was by the pum (Aramaic for mouth) of the river Bedisa. (By the way, the Iraqi city Falujja is one and the same: Falluja = Palgusa = division, as the river divided there. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fallujah.) The academy was renowned for its expertise in pilpul, analysis, and analogies—perhaps to excess. The Gemara (Bava Metzia 38b) quips that in the Yeshiva of Pumbedisa they can pass an elephant through the eye of a needle, implying forcing an explanation via sophistry. The point is that sometimes Rav Ashi, who came from that academy, could use complex arguments that might be theoretically valid but ultimately off course.

The tension in Jewish studies between arriving at a straightforward halachic determination with clear facts versus intense analysis and dialectic is an old one. Gemara Eiruvin (13b) remarks that Rabbi Meir’s argumentation was so sophisticated that he (and one of his students, Symmachus) could prove that a rodent is pure or impure via forty-eight arguments in each direction. His colleagues could not fully follow his logic, and therefore, despite the unrestrained praise for his intellect, the Halacha often was not in accordance with him.

This is a fascinating idea: they respected and believed in his intellectual power, yet since they could not fully comprehend his logic, they would not agree to follow his psak. This is another example of the primacy of subjectivity in Halacha, as we discussed in earlier Psychology of the Daf (Zevachim 98 and later on daf 104).

Additionally, this is one of a few tensions that run throughout Jewish Torah study history— deep analysis versus using straightforward simple logic (see Chasam Sofer Chullin 7a). Some other continuous tensions in Jewish study and observance are spirit of the law versus letter of the law, love of God versus fear, attention to minute detail versus overall perspective, pashut pshat versus derash, and rationalism versus mysticism. None of these issues are necessarily related or identical, but realistically, just as a healthy personality contains a harmony and integration of many qualities (see Hilchos Deos, chapters one and two), so too it seems that healthy Torah is a harmonic and dynamic balance of several approaches. The more authentic it is, the less it seems to be rigidly one school of thought.